Serial Killer (English translation)
by MelimeGreenleaf
Summary: Sherlock decides to seek revenge on all of those who have been involved with Moriarty, and sinks increasingly into his madness. Sequel to I Grieve and Life carries on, last piece of the I Grieve series.
1. Chapter 1

He was sitting with John in his living room, flipping through the folder that Lestrade gave him that morning.

It was the first time that Sherlock saw Moriarty's case file. The information written on paper seemed so cold and impersonal that he could not associate it with all his pain. If Lestrade knew what he wanted to do with that file, he wouldn't have given it to him.

The desire for revenge grew so much within Sherlock that he couldn't wait any longer. He needed to find all those involved with Moriarty and finish them all. Of course he couldn't just go killing all of them. He needed a plan not to get caught, at least until his revenge was complete.

- Any clue about our shooter? - Asked John.

If any piece of Sherlock's mind still worried about the fact that he talked every day to a hallucination, it wasn't very significant. He treated the John he saw as if he was his friend and nothing had changed.

- As always, the police were useless in the investigation. London is lost in the hands of this bunch of idiots. We will have to work alone in this case. - Sherlock said throwing the file to John.

- Lestrade knows what are you planning? We can't let him stop you. And Donovan can be a problem.

As they talked, Sherlock searched for more information about the case in John's notebook. He was more likely to find a list of Moriarty's associates on the internet than to find anything useful in that file.

- Lestrade may suspect, but he won't act without being sure. And no one will believe Donavan's suspicions because she always haunted me.

At these moments, Sherlock felt his melancholy increase. They were planning murders, and the real John would never agree to do that. He was too good to want revenge, and that was only one of the small differences which proved that this wasn't the real John. He erased those thoughts from his mind as soon as they were conceived. He was sitting in front of the real John, or at least was the one that existed.

- With whom should we start? That girl in the museum is free pending trial, we could take advantage of this before she is arrested. Or we could go after the owner of the fake rental car business. I doubt they have any lead, but it's a start. After all, they both worked with Moriarty.

They both knew that Moriarty wasn't careless enough to allow anyone to obtain relevant information, but Sherlock wanted to eliminate anyone who had worked with his enemy. Everyone who helped him should pay for his crimes.

Sherlock jumped off the couch and ran toward the kitchen, leaving the notebook with an open page on sedatives. He couldn't buy any of these substances, because that would be too suspicious. He would have to manufacture them.

- Moriarty took a child hostage in the case of the museum, who was involved in it should die first. – he said while preparing a sedative. - We can kill her inside her house and then toss her into the Thames, as happened with the guard.

- It won't work. - John said while entering the kitchen. - The body will float, and we don't want to be discovered. Maybe you should cut it into pieces and then put each one into a bag full of rocks before throwing them into the river.

- Dismembering a body is dirty. We could take it to a secluded spot and burn the body with fire of magnesium oxide, the remains would be so destroyed that it would be virtually impossible to identify them.

He knew that what he was doing was unhealthy, but it was better than spending the day under a solution which already had well over seven per cent of cocaine. He was just changing the way of self-destruction. In fact, he wasn't yet able to bear the loss of his friend. This was just his way of trying to erase what happened: erasing all involved. He knew also that it was wrong to kill a woman whose only crime had been ordering the falsification of a paint. But none of that mattered.

- It may work, but buying magnesium oxide will seem even more suspicious than buying sedatives.

- No, I have enough for two or three bodies. I bought so long ago that no one will suspect anything. – he said while preparing a syringe with sedative that he had just manufactured.

Sherlock stood up and put his coat and his scarf. The magnesium oxide was stored in a warehouse which, if well prepared, could be perfect for a murder. It might not be a perfect plan, but it was the best he would get. He couldn't bear to wait for his revenge, he had to act that night. Exactly four months ago, his life had been destroyed. And now he would do everyone involved pay.

It would take more than a couple of days to prepare. But soon he could get what he already wanted to have done for months. The delay harmed his chances of discovering the truth, but he was the great Sherlock Holmes, who could unravel any mystery. And he wouldn't disappoint his best friend again.


	2. Chapter 2

Ms. Wenceslas felt a chill as she got down to the car and she looked around with the feeling of being watched. She ran home with a touch of fear. She knew that Moriarty was dead, but still feared receiving a punishment for having spoken to the police. Fear weighed a lot more than guilt. The fear of being caught was what made she first decide to speak.

She opened the door feeling a little safer, but she had no time to lock it before she felt fingers wrapped in latex pressing against her lips. Sherlock knew it would be better to wait for her at the house, most people are less careful when entering their homes. Only took him a few seconds to insert the needle, and then he had an unconscious body to carry.

- You estimated the weight wrongly, the dose is too small. - John said.

- We still have at least a couple hours; I won't risk a higher dose. I want her to know what caused her death. - Sherlock replied while depositing his victim on the floor.

He ran to the second floor. His plan was to fake an escape, luckily he quickly found a suitcase. Having worked in two cases in which the killer was caught for being careless when choosing clothe, he was careful to select clothing that was appropriate for the same climate and that could be used together. He closed the bag and ran to the office. There was a safe behind a picture, and finding the password in the first attempt was as easy as finding the safe.

- It's been ten minutes! Why are you taking so long? We won't arrive on time. - John complained, sitting on the table.

- When was the last time you prepared the suitcase of a woman? It's the hardest part of the plan, believe me. – He said as he putted the money in the suitcase.

He returned to the room as fast as he could. He needed at least an hour to get to the warehouse, with a good traffic. He opened the door carefully, looking around. Luckily, no one was nearby. He didn't planned as well as he wished, but the trial didn't took much. He was still surprised by the London police; he hadn't found a single police car around.

He held his victim in his lap and nearly dropped her when he closed the door. He chose to walk calmly to draw less attention.

- I want to sit in front! - John shouted running after them.

Sherlock smiled. With a single comment, John was able to cheer him up. He putted her in the back seat of her own car. He could no longer rely on taxis; however, buying a car now would seem very suspicious.

He had to try five times before he could start the car. For years he hasn't drove and he was almost sure that his license was expired. Luckily the streets were almost empty; there wasn't much movement in that part of town in the middle of the night. He accelerated as much as he could and luckily the car was powerful. It didn't took him long to get used to the speed, though he had difficulties to keep on road.

- We must run. - John said. - The effect should pass within half an hour and there are still almost sixty miles.

- This car doesn't make more than one hundred miles per hour, and that's faster than I've ever drove. Hopefully the sedative's aftereffect will be strong enough to leave her stunned for other ten or twenty minutes.

Sherlock was running against the clock. Not just he needed to get to the warehouse to secure their victim, but he also needed a new dose. Adrenaline could hardly fight the lethargy and fatigue caused by the lack of drugs. He almost flipped the car when braked sharply in front of the warehouse.

- She is waking up! - John shouted. - We have two minutes at most. We need to tie her soon; we don't want her to flee running. In ten minutes she could get help, if she goes in the right direction.

- I know, I know! - Sherlock said as he opened the rear door.

Ms. Wenceslas was waking up, but wasn't able to fight off the bowlines. He carried her inside quickly, and before she was fully awake, Sherlock had tied it on the table he had prepared. She was afraid, and her heart was racing.

- I hope you will listen to me the next time I say we need more sedatives. - John said a bit breathlessly.

Sherlock leaned against the wall and began to laugh. He didn't care when he saw the sheer terror of his victim get mixed with surprise and indignation. To what purpose served revenge if he couldn't use it to get a little peace of mind?

- I know you! You that bloody detective who discovered the forgery and ruined my career! – She cried while forcing the moorings. - What do you want from me?

Suddenly, Sherlock stopped laughing and took a serious stance. For the first time he noticed that he had forgot the gag. How could he be so distracted? He ran towards the bed and leaned over Miss. Wenceslas, to whisper in her ear.

- I want you to die slowly and suffer as much as possible. - Whispered with certain aggressiveness. - But before you will tell me everything you know about Moriarty.

He walked away as quickly as he had approached. His revenge would have to wait, he needed another shot immediately.

- We can take care of it later, make her shut up. - John said pointing to a piece of cloth that was on the table.

She didn't resist the gag, as if she knew her fate was sealed. She gave in to the stress and fainted.

And Sherlock gave in to his addiction with another shot of cocaine. He could take a couple more hours before starting to work. He slipped up lying on the floor, and allowed the drug to take care of your mind.

- My dear John, we're really doing the right thing? - Asked with his eyes already out of focus.

- You said that there are no heroes and that if there were you wouldn't be one. - John said gently stroking Sherlock's hair. - We can't be satisfied by just doing the right thing. We do what we need to do, regardless of what is right. Relax, you'll need your energy. I promise you that I'll be here when you wake up.


	3. Chapter 3

Sherlock dropped the knife and threw it on the floor. He hasn't got any useful information, despite hours of interrogation. A low weeping was the only sign of life that his victim still gave. He never imagined it would come to this point. He had tortured people other times, but not for so long or in such cold manner.

- I thought the intention was _not_ to do a lot of dirt. - commented John sitting at his side.

- I thought she wasn't being very cooperative, but I think she really knew nothing. – in that moment he turned to face John. - And you can't complain. Who told me where I should cut?

John smiled, and again Sherlock had the feeling that something was wrong with one of them. He still couldn't be as cold as the other, couldn't completely ignore the remaining shards of his consciousness.

- You wanted her to survive long enough to answer your questions, didn't you? All I did was help with some basic knowledge of anatomy.

Blood dripped from the stretcher and slowly dripped on the floor. Sherlock followed closely the drops that fell, it was easier than facing his friend. He couldn't help thinking that John would feel something, he should feel something. Sherlock would have continued with his ramblings if the blood hadn't stopped flowing.

- She stopped bleeding. – he said as he stood up.

He ran to the stretcher and touched her neck gently. He felt no pulse, and the body was already cold. At that moment, he felt a pang of guilt.

- What is the problem? She had no relevant information, and we would have to kill her soon. Put her in the hole and take the magnesium oxide. We've been here for three days, Lestrade may suspect our absence.

Sherlock chose to ignore that comment. He needed to talk to John about his insensitivity, but that wasn't the time. He had evidence that needed to be eliminated. He wouldn't allow the remains of his conscience intrude his revenge. He would find a way around the situation, John was his friend.

He looked at the body covered with cuts. How could he do that? How could he ignore the screams muffled by the gag and nervous crying followed by emphatic denials? He picked up a white sheet and wrapped the body gently, and then picked it up. He laid it gently in the grave and returned to get her teeth that he pulled out and her fingers that he cut off.

- I think maybe I shouldn't get carried away so easily for you... - said Sherlock while opening the bag magnesium oxide. – Don't you think the saw was overkill?

- Sherlock. – he said with his hands touching the other one's gently. – Don't you want revenge? It's what we're doing. This bitch worked with Moriarty and helped in his final act, she doesn't deserve any pity. I would like you to know that I'm grateful for all that you are doing for me, but we can't stop now.

No, he couldn't stop until everyone involved were killed. Not for the first time, he wished Lestrade find out what was happening, so he would be forced to stop. Or maybe it was better if Donovan discovered: she would put a bullet between his eyes and then he could stay with John forever. He pushed those thoughts, John was a good man and Sherlock was a sociopath killer, if there was any justice, the two were not going to the same place after death.

- It's not a matter of wanting revenge, I just want to punish the criminals who deprived the world of such a good men. – he said simply. - If justice is not able to perform an appropriate penalty, we must do this.

He poured magnesium oxide over the body, but he wouldn't see the effects. The deposit was safe, and he could return after to cover the victim with cement. Now, to get back to the city. He was no longer with the car, he dropped it in a parking lot near the international airport. His plan was working perfectly.

- Can we stop to buy milk before we go back? What's in the fridge now is about four months old and I think it became a new form of life.

Sherlock laughed out loud, John knew how to lighten the mood and make him forget what he had done. He was right, he was far from being a hero, and he shouldn't be concerned with the lives of criminals. But with a slight pang, he realized he wanted to be a hero to John.


	4. Chapter 4

Sherlock looked at the empty package of magnesium oxide a little angry. He almost didn't have enough material to get rid of the body of his third victim. It had been a hectic week, the owner of the fake car rental knew someone who had a little bit of information about Moriarty. Almost choking on his own blood, the forger of documents and Moriaty cousin gave them a very valuable clue. "He wasn't the true genius. Look for the teacher..." he whispered almost inaudibly before dying. Sherlock cursed himself for not managing to keep him alive for a few more minutes.

- We need more magnesium oxide. - said John, who was sitting on the table covered in blood and moving his legs absently, as if oblivious to the body being dissolved in front of him.

- No, is very suspicious. We have to think in another way. – he said, sitting beside his friend.

- An acid, maybe? You could produce it in your mini-lab, also known as our kitchen. – he suggested, laughing at his last sentence.

Sherlock thought for a moment, pondering all chemical formulas he knew that could be able to dissolve a body. Some need a lot of fancy equipment to be produced, other rare or too suspicious to be bought in bulk ingredients. And even if he could produce them, he would need to leave the body completely submerged for at least a day, maybe two. No, he couldn't use acid, he concluded nodding.

- Impossible, too suspicions. I was thinking of dismemberment, make the victims become unrecognizable. But how could we get rid of the parts? The Thames is too risky, someone might see us.

His madness had come to the point that he didn't think that anyone else could see his friend. He no longer occasionally remembered that he existed only in his head. This John was now real, even more real than anything else in his life. His conscience didn't bother him as much as before. He was convinced that killing people as bad wasn't in any way wrong. Sometimes he felt a certain twinge inside his head, as if there was something he wasn't thinking about. But John always knew what to say when that happened.

- What if we used Molly? She could get false death certificates. - John suggested.

- It's too risky to let anyone know what we do. She seems too nice to accept to cover up murders. We would have to find a way to make it so that she wouldn't know what is happening.

- You can say that the parts were bought on the black market. She might not be willing to cover up murders, but she won't mind too much covering up a simple smuggling, not if you ask the right way.

Sherlock sat beside him on the stretcher, and spend a few seconds staring at the trench that he had just covered.

- What do you mean? – he finally asked.

- Sherlock. - John said taking his hand and looking directly into his eyes. - You know what I mean. She is a little innocent and gullible girl, not to mention the fact that she is madly in love with you. Flirt a little, call her out on a date. I bet that if after dinner you asked her to kill someone, she would do it without thinking twice.

Sherlock turned away indignant, almost falling off the gurney and looking at John with disgust.

- John! You want me ... How can you ask me that? Do you want ... you want me to prostitute myself for a savourless coroner?! I want to vomit just by thinking about dating her. I wpuld prefer to invade Lestrade's house right now and tell him what we're doing than having to touch her.

- Calm down! – he said raising his hands. - What are you thinking? I'm not asking you to sleep with her or anything, just act like you're interested. Blink a bit, hold her hands, compliment her hair or something, and then ask her to get rid of parts. - and smiling, he added. – Don't worry, I won't let her abuse you.

A bit reluctantly, he eventually accepted that it was a good idea. Unfortunately, he had to make that sacrifice.

- Let's wait until we have another body before taking drastic measures. Meanwhile, we need to find out everything we can about the teacher.

- If you had been more careful, we would have more information. We can look for some other relative of Moriarty, someone must know something. We won't kill everyone, but we may murder a few more of Moriarty's relatives.

Sherlock was a bit annoyed to hear John criticizing him in that way, but he decided to say nothing. The truth is that John was right, he had lost an opportunity and couldn't afford to do that again.

- We can continue this discussion tomorrow, my cocaine ended and I need to purify a little more on my mini-lab.

John got up with a jump.

- Can I drive? – he asked excited.

A few days ago, Mycroft decided to give a car for his brother, to always know where he was. Of course Sherlock took only a few seconds to disable all seven GPS trackers his dear brother installed.

- Okay. Just try not to hit anyone, please. As much as I like to annoy Mycroft, I think it can raise many uncomfortable questions.

- I promise to be careful.

And so they left. Since the human mind is fascinating, Sherlock went home believing that John was driving. There was no longer any difference between reality and hallucinations. And he didn't care about that.

It couldn't continue for too long, his body already showed signs of exhaustion by stress and by drug abuse. They needed to finish the entire operation soon, at risk of failing in their mission.


	5. Chapter 5

When John reached out to give Sherlock the newly purchased babyliss, he received the highest sneer imaginable.

- You are exaggerating. - was the only answer he received.

- I'm not. We're trying to convince a good girl to let us cremate bodies without asking questions, we need you to be on your best appearance. You've done something far worse to a cover, and what we are doing is not more than that.

To take advantage of the wireless babyliss' heat before he had to put it on the base again, John began to retouch the natural curls himself. Sherlock thought about protesting, but stayed in his chair. They had spent the entire day choosing clothes and thinking of what to say to Molly, what was even more difficult than killing the Golem last night. John was happy to have finally been able to shoot that monster, and Sherlock's bad humor couldn't spoil it.

- If Mycroft discover that you bought it with my card, he will never stop mocking me. I shouldn't have let you go to the market alone.

If Mycroft knew Sherlock occasionally walked around the city thinking he was John while believing himself to be at home thinking, he certainly would take a attitude. But even without any sanity, Sherlock was still able to fool his brother without even trying.

- The curls match your face, and if you didn't insist on tousling them while sleeping, you wouldn't have to use it. Now be quiet, it's terribly difficult to work with such small clusters.

Sherlock was still sneezing after the amount of perfume and aftershave that John forced him to use, so being quiet wasn't exactly easy.

- I told you you're overreacting. You know she is madly in love with me. I could appear only wearing a potato sack and still she would do whatever I asked. You might even think that I know nothing about love, but the chemistry is pretty simple. And her eyes dilate so much every time she sees me that sometimes seem totally black.

John laughed at the notion of love of his colleague, as he finished the hairstyle. They couldn't risk being denounced, so he continued with the housekeeping. After an hour they were ready to leave. The Golem was stored in small and practical packages, of no more than ten kilograms each. Once Molly agreed to help them, they could get rid of his pieces.

Sherlock entered the room almost like a ghost. When Molly turned, she was so disturbed by his presence that she almost tripped over one of the bodies. He was simply wonderful. There was nothing particularly spectacular in his appearance and his clothes were the same as always, but the little details of zeal and care made a stupendous difference. For a moment, she thought her heart would stop, but then she became convinced that she should calm down. Except that not all of her self-control could prevent her heart from shooting when Sherlock approached slowly and placed both hands on the table behind her, one on each side of Molly's body.

- This shade of lipstick fits you more than the previous. Red enhances your skin. - seeing that Molly seemed unable to formulate any coherent thought, Sherlock continued. – It's a waste to let such beauty stuck here where no one can appreciate. You should get out more.

- You think? - Molly could muster enough courage to ask.

- Of course! Certain things shouldn't be hidden from the world. I bet you would look lovely in a beautiful evening gown.

Turning her face, Molly whispered: "I don't have any special occasion..."

- Bullshit. Any occasion can be special, even a simple dinner, when you have the right company.

Sherlock was finding it difficult to continue with the performance, especially since John was sitting next to Molly, leaning on the table, trying to hold back his laughter. Now was Sherlock who was exaggerating, but he wanted to get rid of her ASAP. If he could talk with John without being heard by Molly he would say "checkmate in two."

- Would y-you like to have dinner with m-me? That would certainly make the night special. I mean, not that I'm saying...

Sherlock did his best I-really-wish-that-I-could-do-that-but-I-have-an-urgent-engagement-which-would-be-impossible-to-get-rid-of face as John started laughing loudly, almost falling off the table. If Sherlock wasn't a consultant detective, he could just as easily be an actor.

- Oh, Molly. I really wish I could go, but I need to make a very important experience, a man's life depends on it. If only I had a more powerful furnace, I could end it sooner and still have time for dinner, but I would need enough heat to turn bones into powder. – he spoke lamenting, with the last sentence in joking tone.

- You could use the morgue's furnace. If you want, I can borrow you the keys to the room. I mean, you would have to return everything the way it is. And of course you can't burn bodies there.

- Certainly. I would be so grateful to accept. If you give me the keys now, I can give then back to you at nine at dinner.

Nervous and shaking, she gave him the keys. And as subtly as he had come, Sherlock left.

- I wonder if Mycroft has some tape of you in a school play or something. - John commented while taking the packages with parts of the Golem. - You really have a talent for acting.

- It's blackmail material. I played a nine lives mage in the adaptation of a children's book, I was the only one high enough. And no, you can't see it. I've never been so humiliated in all my life, I had to use flashy robes, and a long sleeve. It's better not to remember.

- Pity. I would like to see it. We better end soon with the cremation, the process is slow.

And so they found a great way to get rid of the bodies.


	6. Chapter 6

To avoid losing access to the furnace, Sherlock decided to go to dinner. Molly managed to get a taxi and get to the restaurant without any major incident, but it was a mistake to have taken her to the first place that he went with John.

- Sherlock, I was so happy with your invitation! It's wonderful to see that you are better after what happened ...

- Remember when we ran chasing a cab and we didn't realized that the cabbie was the real culprit?

It was hard for him to focus on what the two were saying, but at least Molly didn't seem to notice the fact that he almost didn't answered. After just over half an hour, she got up to go to the bathroom, which gave Sherlock and John a chance to talk.

- It's amazing how she manages to be so boring. I'm almost thinking it wasn't worth to do it all just to get access to the furnace. - Sherlock said.

- Wait a few minutes and pretend to receive an important message or something. It's not like she isn't used to disappointments.

Before he could answer, Molly returned to the table. Following John's plan of John, Sherlock waited just a few more minutes before inventing an excuse to leave.


	7. Chapter 7

When they got home, they were surprised by a voice coming from the kitchen. Both rushed there to find Jim Moriarty sitting on the table.

- You performance at the restaurant was hilarious! It's unfortunate that because of it that silly little girl has died.

Sherlock was about to attack Moriarty, but was stopped by John.

- You can't do anything against her. - John said. - She knows your face, you won't be able to approach her.

Jim laughed, further angering them.

- It's done. While you two were arguing in the restaurant, I putted a small amount of poison in her cup. It must have been effective, if you hadn't left running so fast, you could have seen her die.

They were shocked to hear those words. This time, John didn't stop Sherlock from picking up his gun. The first three shots missed Jim, who left laughing and running around the flat. The consulting detective followed him and only stopped shooting to reload the revolver. He seemed incapable of hitting his enemy, but he wouldn't give up.

At no time crossed his mind that had already killed Moriarty, because if he remembered it, he would realize that it was him who poisoned Molly. He was no longer able to face the world without his illusions, and completely ignored the part of his mind that knew what was happening.

He was shooting so uncontrollably that he didn't hear the footsteps coming to the door. It was only when he heard the sound of a body falling down the stairs that he realized one of his bullets had pierced trough the door. He ran towards it, ignoring Moriarty's laughter. Lying on the ground was Mrs. Hudson, in a pool of her own blood. John approached her to check for vital signs, but it was too late.

- Sherlock ... - John began.

- Moriarty caused it!

- Sherlock, someone must have heard the shots, they will call the police. We need to get out of here, fast!

It was then that John realized that Sherlock was shaking. He would have thought it was a reaction to what just happened, if didn't know very well the signs of what was really happening.

- Sherlock. – he now called with a worried tone. - Sherlock, you're having an abstinence crisis, you need to get a new dose and then rush out here.

Sherlock was in a nearly catatonic state, caused by shock and withdrawal. He allowed John to take him into the apartment and waited on the couch while John prepared his drugs. They had little time before the police arrived, but they knew he was much more mobile under the influence of cocaine than suffering from the lack of it.

- We won't be able to escape, will we? – he asked finally, while John was looking for a vein.

If he wasn't so sick, he couldn't have missed the guilty look on John's face. Instead, he let the drug get into his body, without consciously knowing that the dose was much higher than he was used to.

- We don't need to flee. You can come with me and Mrs. Hudson.

And so the wave of murders committed by Sherlock Holmes ended.


	8. Chapter 8

Lestrade still couldn't believe what had happened. He knew Sherlock for years and, unlike what Donovan and Anderson seemed to think, he knew that he cared about others more than he demonstrated.

If it wasn't for his confession, they wouldn't even know of all the people he killed. It was difficult to differentiate between what was real and what was fruit of his imagination. When he was taken to the hospital after an overdose of cocaine, he kept saying that Moriarty had killed Mrs. Hudson and John had tried to kill him.

Mycroft was shocked to discover his brother's madness, and it wasn't difficult to convince the police that his place was in a mental institution with a treatment program for addicts, and not in a prison. The fact that the only proven crimes were the murders of Molly and Mrs. Hudson also helped. Nobody would ever know if Sherlock had actually killed the people involved with Moriarty, but as Mycroft wasn't able to find them, that was likely.

While nobody knows exactly how to explain how hallucinations of Sherlock worked, Mycroft was convinced that he created Moriarty and killed Molly because it was the only way to be shocked enough to stop his revenge, and that the death of Mrs. Hudson was an accident that made him feel so guilty that he attempted suicide.

For years, both Mycroft and Lestrade visited Sherlock the hospital. They were the only ones who still cared about him. However, both doubted that their visits had any effect. After confessing his crimes and being hospitalized, Sherlock went completely out of reality and went to live in a world where he and John were still working together and Moriarty didn't existed. And even if they both wanted him back, both, in their own way, understood that this was the only way he had to continue to exist.


End file.
